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“Old-fashioned old codgers.”
“Are they honest?”
Kenny dabbed his shirt some more, then poured another glass. He gestured with the bottle. Bell shook his head.
“Are they honest?”
“Honest as the day is long. Frankly, I don’t know how they survive on Wall Street.”
Bell looked at their reflections in the night-blackened glass. Lights in a farmhouse raced by. Old and honest? Had Clay and his boss somehow tapped secretly into Thibodeau & Marzen’s private system?
“We’re making time at last,” said Kenny. “Running fast and hitting the curves hard. Maybe I won’t fire him after all.”
“What? Oh yes.”
The train was highballing through the night, although the rate of speed was not that apparent. Their car was coupled between a stateroom car, which rode directly behind the tender, and the diner car at the back of the train. Thus anchored, it did not sway much, while thick insulating felt between the paneling and the outer walls muffled wind and track noise. Bell was surprised, as they passed a small-town train depot, how fast its lights whipped by.
A sudden chatter broke the silence.
Kenny darted to the telegraph key. They had picked up a message by grasshopper telegraphy, the signal relayed to the speeding train from the telegraph wires that paralleled the tracks through an Edison-patented electrostatic induction system. Fluent since boyhood in the Morse alphabet, Kenny cocked his ear and wrote furiously, then carried what he had written to Bell, his expression grave. Bell, who had listened intently, knew why.
“For you,” said Kenny.
“I told the boys I’d be on your train.”
He read it, his brow furrowing.
“Looks bad,” said Kenny.
“Hellish,” said Isaac Bell.
REGRET TOWBOAT CAMILLA EXPLOSION. CAPTAIN DIED.
REGRET UNION HALL FIRE.
BODYGUARDS FRIED.
ENJOY YOUR RIDE.
TRIPLE PLAY.
43
“Enjoy your ride?’” asked Kenny Bloom. “What the hell kind of joke is that supposed to be?”
“A vicious joke,” said Bell, mourning Captain Jennings, murdered for helping the marchers, and Mike Flannery and Terry Fein, whom he had sent into action over their heads.
“And what does ‘triple play’ mean?”
The floor shook and the windows reverberated as the train thundered across an iron trestle bridge. “Where’s the conductor?”
“I don’t know. Back in the diner.”
“Are you sure?”
Bell strode quickly to the back of the car and threw open the door into the enclosed vestibule. The wheels were thundering on the track, and the wind was roaring past the canvas diaphragm. Bell opened the diner door and stepped into the car. It was swaying violently.
“Kux! Conductor Kux! Are you there?”
